


On an Island far away

by makingitwork



Series: Peter/Stiles [43]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Holiday, Leg Humping, Little bit of angst, M/M, Vacation, allusions to puppy play, protective, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:50:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6074728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is afraid of planes</p>
            </blockquote>





	On an Island far away

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy! :)

‘Stiles, sweetheart, darling, look at the seat belt sign.’

  
Stiles, six years old and curious, simply twisted the nozzle, jumping when a gust of cool air blew at him. He frowned at it, twisting it harder. Peter sighed

  
‘Stiles, Stiles, Stiles,’ He called, reaching his hands up to grip Stiles’ hips, as he manoeuvred the boy to turn around ‘look at the seatbelt sign. What does it say? What’s it doing?’

  
Stiles examined it carefully ‘it’s lighted up.’

  
‘Which means everyone should have their seat belts on. Including you.’ He gestures to his own ‘see? I’m wearing mine.’

  
Stiles sits with a huff and crosses his arms, pouting as Peter secures him in, tightening accordingly. It’s a crisp morning, and Peter is bringing Stiles along for a two day business trip. It’s the first time Stiles has ever been on a plane, and when it gears up, he starts to panic. He grips Peter’s hand, amber eyes wide and terrified ‘it’s moving,’ he whispered, and Peter can hear his heart triple in speed. And when the plane takes off, Stiles gapes at the ground through the window, and squeaks unhappily, clutching his ears, and Peter draws him close

  
‘It’s okay, darling, it’s fine. You’re okay.’

  
Stiles whimpers, upset, and Peter spends the entire plane journey hugging him tight, feeling immeasurably guilty. He’d fought for Stiles to come with him, and now the boy was petrified and it was all Peter’s fault.

  
When they land, Peter gives Stiles some bubble gum, and all wrong is forgotten.   
…  
…  
…  
10 years later

  
Stiles is sixteen.

  
And he’s a little jittery, bouncing his knee and looking around, but he’s not as scared. Just a little panicked. ‘So,’ he says, chewing strawberry bubblegum, watching as the plane begins to move forward ‘are you gonna tell me where we’re actually going?’

  
Peter smiles fondly at his mate ‘it’s a surprise, Stiles.’ He says easily, stroking a thumb over Stiles’ hand which is currently clutching his in a death grip.

  
‘Just tell me!’ Stiles pleads, batting his eyelashes ‘please, Alpha?’ He whines, pouting his lips in that way that drives Peter crazy, and the werewolf just flicks him in the head and Stiles grumbles.

  
‘It’s a surprise.’ He says firmly.

  
And then food is being offered, and Stiles grabs one of everything and Peter rolls his eyes as Stiles pulls down the tray from the seat before him, and loads on all his food, munching away. 

  
‘Sometimes,’ Peter drawled ‘I don’t know what I see you.’ Stiles grinned through a packet of Monster Munch, and passed over his glass of…something. Peter rose a delicate eyebrow ‘no thank you, sweetheart…to whatever that is.’

  
Stiles swallowed, licking his greasy lips, and still holding out the glass ‘It’s tomato juice, with Worcestershire sauce. It’s yummy. I made this one for you.’

  
Peter gagged ‘no thank you.’ Stiles sets the plastic cup down, looking hurt, but trying to hide it, and Peter deflates. ‘Hey,’ he says quietly, but Stiles just rifles for a Mars bar, ‘Stiles, look at me.’ His boy looks to the window

  
‘We’ve been over the Ocean for a long time,’ he points out ‘this isn’t another sneaky attempt to take me to Australia for a business trip, is it?’

  
Peter smiles softly, but shakes his head ‘look at me, baby,’ he says, and Stiles sighs, but turns, half meeting his eyes ‘I know what I just did hurt you.’ He says, one hand cupping the base of Stiles’ neck ‘I rejected my mate providing for me.’

  
Stiles whimpers, looking down at his chocolate bar, and Peter’s heart nearly splits down the middle.

  
He picks up the cup, and takes a sip.  
It’s delicious.

  
It’s actually- it’s actually delicious.

He swallows down half of it, and smiles brilliantly ‘Stiles, this is amazing-‘

  
Stiles pulls away, turning to look back out of the window ‘don’t bother, Peter.’ He says ‘I’m gonna try and get some sleep.’

  
Peter knows Stiles is a teenager.

Sometimes little things like this would have made him laugh, and then suddenly some days they make him cry. He knows about the mood-swings and the difficulties, hell he’s lived it once. And Stiles is already more vulnerable on planes. He finishes the drink, and spends the rest of the flight carding his fingers through his sleeping mate’s hair.

When Stiles wakes up, he sees the plane about to land, and realises all the food wrappers are gone. Peter probably put them away for him. He stretches a little, snuffling as the wheels of the plane hit the ground gracelessly. He yawns, and turns to see Peter watching him. Stiles smiles softly ‘hey,’

  
Peter brings their hands together and kisses Stiles’ palm ‘hi, beautiful.’

  
Stiles snorts, rubbing his eyes ‘how much longer now?’

  
‘Just a twenty minute boat journey.’

  
Stiles sits up, slipping off his seat belt ‘I like boats.’

It’s dark when they get to wherever they’re meant to be. Stiles can’t make much out, only that they get off the boat, and walk for a little bit- he’s too exhausted to see much, only recognises the soft mattress underneath him, and goes to sleep.

Stiles wakes up before Peter, who’s curled into an adorable wrap of blankets with a tuft of blond hair sticking out. He looks around the bedroom. It’s nice- oh it’s very nice. White fluffy blankets on the King Size bed, and large windows with light curtains that look out towards a beach and an ocean. Stiles sits up, realising how hot it is. He pads around, the cabin is lovely, simplistic but beautiful, and he opens the door, stepping down the steps, feed sinking into the sand. They’re right by the ocean. A gentle breeze sweeps over Stiles, carrying a refreshing saltiness, as he goes to look around.

  
It’s after ten minutes of wandering and admiration that Stiles realises he hasn’t seen anyone else.

  
Actually, now that he thinks about it, he can’t remember any other passengers on that boat. He sets into a jog, following the coast, before heading up to where the greenery starts in the middle. A few trees, a small wood, and a lovely grassy hill that he heads up. Barefoot and in his pyjamas that Peter must have changed him in to. The peak of the hill is only a couple of metre’s across, but he can look around.

  
Holy shit it’s an island.

  
A small island, surrounded by sea, and if Stiles squints he can see large shadows of other islands in the distance.

  
But there are no other cabins, no other people, and he falls with amazement, rolling down the hills soft grass and onto the sand, laughing.

  
Jesus, Peter’s hired them an entire island for Stiles’ summer holiday. It’s unreal. It’s unbelievable. He starts laughing, lying on the sand as the cool morning sun beats down on him and Peter chuckles

  
‘You’re an idiot.’ He says fondly

  
Stiles looks up at his handsome mate ‘you hired and island!’

  
‘It’s a perfectly common practice amongst people nowadays, Stiles,’ he says, a little shyly and Stiles scoffs

  
‘Amongst billionaires maybe!’ And he pats the spot next to him, and Peter lies beside him, smiling when Stiles cuddled into his chest. ‘This is awesome. We can walk around totally naked! We can be as loud as we like! Oh my god- let’s go swimming!’ He up, and tugging Peter towards the water, which is warm. Oh my god the water is warm and perfect, and Stiles doesn’t care his pyjamas are soaked through he wades in till it splashes around his shoulders, and Peter spits water at him. 

  
It’s the best summer he ever has.

  
He and Peter sometimes spend entire days in bed, kissing, and sometimes they swim out as far as they can. They have picnics on the top of the grassy hill, go for moonlit walks across the beach. Wolf Peter chases Stiles through the small woods whilst Stiles giggles in delight. They play a two day long game of monopoly that ends with Peter pinning Stiles to the bed and kissing him ferociously whilst Stiles calls him a cheater for slipping hundreds from the bank.

  
They draw giant pictures in the sand, and collect pretty shells and Stiles makes necklaces for them.

  
They howl until Stiles’ throat is sore, and spend an entire day cooking an elaborate feast for themselves. They go fishing, and everything’s perfect.

  
‘Peter,’ Stiles whimpers into their kisses ‘please,’ and he shifts so Peter can feel his hardon. 

Peter groans, tilting his head back ‘Stiles,’ he says, sounding pained ‘you’re too young-'

  
‘Okay, okay, not that- something else though? Please? You’re just so hot, and you’re mine- and I- anything- anything.’

  
Peter licks his lips and nods once ‘put your jeans on.’

  
Stiles doesn’t question him, pulling on his jeans over his bare form as Peter does the same. They’ve spent most of their time here so far naked, and Stiles has spent hours gawking over Peter’s form haloed by the sunlight.

  
Peter sits on the edge of the bed, and spreads his legs, and Stiles stands, waiting for instruction. Peter takes a deep breath ‘you can…you can hump my leg, if you want,’

  
Jesus fuck that shouldn’t sound as appealing as it does.

  
Stiles clambers forward eagerly, falling to his knees, and positioning himself.

Trembling fingers locking into Peter’s jeans, he rests his head on Peter’s knee, and they slot together. He grinds his hips once, repositioning until his dick is scraping across the denim in the best way, and he starts grinding, humping with abandon. Peter watches, eyes beating alpha red as his boy humps his leg, and he scratches his fingers through Stiles’ hair, behind his ear, whispering ‘good boy,’ and getting off on thoughts of Stiles in a collar, a butt plug with a tail, but Stiles doesn’t know about puppy play, and is too lost in the sensation, debasing himself as he thrusts onto Peter’s shin. Peter looks down at him, eyes dark with want. His boy is so beautiful, so wanton, getting himself off on his Master’s leg.

  
‘Come on, Stiles,’ Peter orders, pushing his leg harder between Stiles’ thighs ‘cum.’  
Stiles does, with a loud, satisfied groan, and Peter works him through it slowly, before cradling his boy, and they both go to sleep.

  
Peter doesn’t let them do anything else aside from kissing after that, claiming it’s too risky, but Stiles still counts it as a win. They play hide and seek and Peter often asks Stiles to read in certain positions to Peter can sketch him in a notebook he carries around.

  
Now, Stiles is on his stomach on the bed, naked, book in his hands as he reads, legs up, swaying slightly as Peter admires and draws him.

  
Stiles reads Peter bedtime stories, as Peter nuzzles into his neck. He sings to him, and Peter reteaches him how to waltz on the beach as the waves tap at their feet.

  
It’s the best.

And as they head for the airport, Stiles just twines his fingers with Peter.

  
Not so scared anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt and comment! Xx


End file.
